Aziraphale did not like Los Angeles. He'd been here half a day and had already come to that conclusion. But he'd heard chatter among some of the more well-connected people around Soho about a club owner in LA who claimed to be the Devil. And Aziraphale could not let that go. He knew he wouldn't be able to shake the fear of another apocalypse until he went and saw for himself.
So he'd flown out here nearly straight away. The first thing that caught his attention was that people seemed to either think he was crazy, an actor, or in fancy dress. Occasionally they seemed to think he was all three. But he'd managed to find out where this so-called Devil operated out of. Some club called Lux.
The unfortunate bit had been that the person who had told him had laughed when Aziraphale had told them he needed to go there so he could meet the man calling himself the Devil. Evidently it was fairly exclusive. But Aziraphale had to try. And if not by proper channels, he could always find another way in.
He had been surprised, when he actually got there, that despite the glittery crowd of well-dressed patrons - amongst whom he stood out like a sore thumb in his suit that wasn't anywhere remotely close to trendy - he was let in. Although he had noticed one of the bouncers say something to the other seeming to imply they were letting him in because he was an omega. Which he wasn't, but if that would get him in, then he wouldn't correct them.
Aziraphale's precise dynamic was a little unusual. He was a gamma. Basically an alpha, but with more of the social hard-wiring of an omega. They were apparently uncommon, especially among humans. Then again, it wasn't like Crowley's dynamic was all that common, either, so he'd at least spent the last 6000 in the company of someone just as odd as him. However, as a gamma, he was often mistaken for an omega because he lacked the predisposition for fighting and displays of dominance common to alphas. He tended more towards thr submissive behavior common to omegas, so he could see where the mistake came from.
Being mistaken for an omega could be an absolute nightmare, though. As he had reconfirmed for him once he reached the club. He hadn't wanted to get into the middle of the gyrating masses, so he'd stuck close to the bar. The bartender, who was clearly an alpha had rolled her eyes when he'd asked if there was anything non-alcoholic, but she hadn't argued with him. And she hadn't looked at him like a piece of meat, either.
Which was more than he could say for the four alphas who had pretty well cornered him against the bar. And then he understood. He'd often been told he looked pretty and innocent. Evidently a lot of alphas liked that in an omega. Which was ostensively what was going on here. That did not, however, magically provide him with a way to make them go away.
